


But the Temples Have Burned and the Statue is Broken

by circular_infinity



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Gen, Hopeful Ending, POV First Person, POV Tifa Lockhart, Slice of Life, onesided tifa/cloud unless you want to read more into it, possibly not canon compliant as it doesn't take the dirge of cerberus into account, set post AC and also includes spoilers from the game, some cloud angst but it's pretty mild, tagging bc i know ppl hate that tho i've never figured out why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22109584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circular_infinity/pseuds/circular_infinity
Summary: After the events of Advent Children Cloud moves back in with Tifa.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	But the Temples Have Burned and the Statue is Broken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainbrounicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbrounicorn/gifts).



> This is an older fic of mine that I've decided to move onto AO3. It was originally posted on Nov 13, 2006.
> 
> This was written for a friend who asked for this: "Cloud/Tifa, doesn't matter what sort of relations they have, post advent children, mention of Sephiroth/Cloud, doesn't matter what sort of relations they had." I hope I have delivered.
> 
> This was hard to write. It kept wanting to go off in about six different directions, none of which matched the other directions or what I wanted to do with it.

Cloud arrives that night, soaked though it isn't raining, and carrying his belongings from the church. 

"Everything was underwater," he says and gives me one of his shrugs. 

I smile, open the door wider and offer to help him with his things. 

The children are already asleep so we move his belongings into the back room and he says he'll sleep there tonight. It almost surprises me - how few belongings he's collected over the years, but when I think about it it makes sense. It's hard to keep physical possession when you're always picking up and leaving. 

I shake my head. That's not something I want to think about right now. Not something I want Cloud to have to think about right now. I bid him goodnight and move to leave. 

"Tifa," he says suddenly, just I'm closing the door. 

I turn back. 

"Thank you," he says. 

"Of course." 

He nods and I walk from the room. 

\---

Sometimes I think I shouldn't be so forgiving. He left me with responsibilities. With a restaurant, children and a delivery service to take care of. He told me he'd be there for me and he wasn't. 

Often it doesn't seem fair, and sometimes I find myself angry at him, all this made me realize one thing: I don't need him. When he was gone I wished he was there. I waited for him, made sure there was room for him and left messages on his phone though I knew he'd never call back. I missed him. But I didn't need him. 

I don't know how much of this I'll ever bring up to Cloud. He's been hurt and he's still hurting and I'm afraid that someday he'll shy away from all of us again. But he's here now and that's good. I want to stay with him. I'm glad he wants to stay with me. 

\---

The room arrangements go back to what they were before he left. The rest of our lives don't settle in quite as easily. The children are happy to have him back, but I find that the routines that I'd fallen into when he left are now disrupted by his presence. He fits in like an oversized puzzle piece and for the first few weeks everything else has to be arranged around him. 

He's less reclusive than he used to be. He primarily takes over all the odd jobs and the delivery service while I run the restaurant. He helps out with the children and finally fixes the shelf that's been falling down for four months. Some days he even comes out front to help deal with the customers, but that's rare. He still hates washing the dishes, but seems content enough to dry and that's a pattern we fall into. I wash, he dries and each day we talk and I think he's changing. 

\---

When Denzel comes in and proudly announces that he wants to be just like Cloud when he grows up, the man it question drops a mug which breaks as it hits the floor. He looks shocked, but ducks behind the counter to pick up the cup and when he straightens again his expression is neutral. 

When Cloud doesn't speak I say, "That's wonderful Denzel." 

The boy grins and makes a show of waving the rod through the air and twirling it above his head. Cloud just stares. 

_Say something_ , I mouth at him. 

Cloud starts. "Good," he manages. Denzel beams. 

"Just you watch," the boy says. "I'm going to save everyone!" 

Cloud looks stricken. Fortunately, Denzel has already run from the room and doesn't see. 

\---

In many ways Cloud's not what he first appears to be. He's reserved, but not in a unfriendly way and often people warm to him after knowing him only a short while. 

All Denzel sees is strength and stoicism. I think even many of our companions see a simplified version of Cloud. At the end even they wanted him to be the hero. I still can remember Cid urging Cloud to be a more assertive leader, but making no attempt to take the position for himself. 

Sometimes I wonder how Aerith saw Cloud. I wish now that I'd gotten to know her better instead of shying away from her out of jealousy. She loved Cloud, that was clear, but what did she think of him? Did she see past the layers of bravado and callousness to see what a kind person he really is? She must have, for I can't imagine her loving him otherwise. 

The Cloud I know is too complex for me summed up easily. I've known many versions of the man who calls himself Cloud and in some way, I've loved them all. 

He's not the babbling, wounded man I found in the train station nor is he the brash, uncaring man I saw him transform into in front of my eyes. Nor is he the child who left to become a member of SOLDIER; the one who was shy and just wanted to people to like him. I see shades of that boy in him, but it's incomplete. 

I see Zack as well, all confidence and anger. Most of the confidence is gone, replaced by something quieter that's half-sorrow, half-determination, but the anger's still there, if softened. 

I see what we thought was a Mako soaked Sephiroth clone. It's rare, and it only happens if I can't see his eyes. It's when he's sitting with his head down or when he's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't respond the first time I speak to him. It scares me, but I try to contain it. I wondered what he sees in my face when he finally looks up and answers me. 

I see a man who has been and done many things. He's all of them and none of them at the same time. He's older and hurts more. His eyes never completely changed back to the color they were when he was a child. 

\---

Later that night I find Cloud out on the porch. He greets me with a nod turns his gaze back to the stars. The air is cold for this time of year and after only a few minutes I shiver and fold my arms, trying to keep warm. Cloud notices, comes to stand behind me and rubs his hands up and down my arms. His palms are rough but warm against my skin. After a while he stops and his hands just rest there. I don't think it's meant as a romantic gesture; it doesn't feel like one. Another moment passes and he steps back and goes to lean again the porch railing again, facing out. 

"Are you alright?" I ask. 

He looks at me for a moment and then shrugs with tilt of his head and I can tell that he's not. 

"Is it was Denzel said?" 

When he doesn't answer, I continue, "No one expects you to be perfect." 

"Denzel does," he counters. 

"The children have always looked up to you." 

"I suppose," he says, though the thought clearly doesn't please him. "I just don't like the idea of him wanting to be like me." 

"Why not?" 

"I'm not the man they think I am." 

"They think you're strong, brave and kind," I say. "They're right." 

He ducks his head and I know I've said the wrong thing. I hope I can salvage this. 

"He idolizes you," I tell him. "And for good reason. Is there harm in that?" 

"I idolized Sephiroth," he reminds me. 

His words stop me and for a moment there is nothing I can think of to say. 

\---

There was a time when I idolized Cloud as well. I am no less guilty of expecting him to be the hero than anyone else. I looked up to him and looked to him for answers, even when I knew he couldn't provide them. I lied to him and let him believe untruths just so he could be what I thought he wanted to be. 

I wanted him to save me. Wanted him to want to save me. Wanted him to be there for me as much as I wanted to be there for him. 

I loved him, still love him, but it's different now. I wouldn't lie to him. 

\---

I want to tell him that wishing to be like Sephiroth didn't hurt anything, but we both know that's not strictly true. He wouldn't be the man he is today if he hadn't left Nibelheim at that age. Finally, I remind him that that was before the man went insane, but that doesn't seem to help. 

"I'll disappoint him," he says after a long moment. 

"Like Sephiroth disappointed you?" 

Cloud frowns and I can tell he doesn't want to think about that aspect of all of this. 

"I'll fail him," he says quietly as if he's voicing his most secret fears. Perhaps he is. 

"No, you won't," I tell him firmly. 

"I already have once. If Kadaj had wanted the children dead they would be. I couldn't have stopped him." 

"You kept fighting. That's what's - " 

"Not every time." 

I grow silent, unsure of what to say without either repeating myself or sounding like I'm giving him platitudes. 

"It's not about you," I decide after a moment. "It's about him. He wants to be what he sees in you, just as you wanted to be what you saw in Sephiroth. Eventually he'll grow up and find out that you're not perfect. You're just a man. Maybe he'll feel disappointed then, but someday he'll realize that everything you did was all the more incredible because you are just a man." 

Cloud looks over at me. With a small sigh he turns and takes a seat on the bench behind us. I don't think he's convinced, but from what I can read from his expression, he seems less upset. 

"Or maybe he just likes the big sword," I suggest. 

Cloud doesn't smile, but his head gives small a nod and I can tell he appreciates my joke. 

"I shouldn't have left," he says, and then after a pause, "I'm sorry." 

"Cloud," I begin and then pause uncertainly, not sure how to express what I want to say. "Yes, you shouldn't have left." 

Cloud flinches slightly - he was clearly hoping for straight forgiveness, but I'm done lying for him. What I want to say has to be said and I continue onward. "Did you think to spare us? To save us from having to watch you die? I would rather that than thinking that you died alone." 

"Tifa, I - " 

"I already forgave you before. Either way, it's over. Your geostigma is cured. But even if it wasn't, I'd still want you here. I'm just glad to have you back." 

He looks up at me, his face more open than I've seen in it years. For a moment I fear that I've given him more guilt, but then his expression centers. 

"Next time I'll stick around," he says. 

"OK." _Just don't let there be a 'next time'_. 

It some ways this feels like the first time we've had a chance to be together for a long time. For all that we lived together, see each other everyday, it's not the same. I remember the last time we sat alone. Not knowing if we'd die fighting Sephiroth. Not knowing if Meteor would kill us even if we did succeed. I remember the words we exchanged - or failed to exchange - as we sat outside the Highwind waiting and wondering if the others would return. When there was nothing left to say we just stayed there and I bent my head and leaned it on his shoulder in the pre-dawn hours. It was all I could do. Stay with Cloud and wait. I'm older now. Stronger now. 

I rest my head on his shoulder anyway. 

He gives a soft sigh and lets me. After a long moment he shifts, bringing his arm up to rest around my shoulders. He's gentle as if he's afraid something will happen if he touches me. 

"I'm not alone." He murmurs the words so quietly - as if he's reminding himself - that I'm not sure I was meant to hear. 

_You never were alone_ , I want to tell him. I'm just glad he finally knows. 

"It's all right," I say. 

"No." He shakes his head gently. "Sometimes it's not. But it will be." His arm tightens almost imperceptibly around me as he looks up toward the sky. I feel it anyway. "It will be."


End file.
